Morning Theft
by lefcadio
Summary: Franz doesn't want to go home, and Albert comes up with a more comfortable solution.


**Notes**: Written as a birthday fic for catiechu. ♥

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Neither of them saw the sun rise that day. It was a chilly morning; grey, insubstantial fog hung low in the city streets, blanketing the thin frost that glittered the pavements.

The room - somewhat messy, with dead candles and empty glasses strewn about - was quiet. Even the air inside was cold, lifeless, and the only sound that broke the near-silence was that of soft breathing.

It was a strange picture; two teenage boys - aristocrats - asleep beside each other on the hard floor. To all outward appearances, they did not belong there. One of them shivered, unconsciously clutching at the jacket spread over him like a makeshift blanket. He murmured something and turned over, settling against the casually outflung arm of the other sleeping boy.

Now, it took a lot to wake Albert de Morcerf - he had been known to sleep through alarms, shouting, even car horns, but - _that_ morning he found consciousness dawning on him quite easily.

"Mmph..."

He blinked, and squinted up at the slightly cracked ceiling dazedly. Several things occurred to him at that point; that he was not at home, that it was freezing cold, and that his best friend was beside him.

Albert yawned, and somewhere at the back of his mind it registered that the slight warmth he could feel was, in fact, Franz. So he did the only logical thing which seemed obvious at the time, and that was to shift a bit closer to steal some heat.

He promptly fell back asleep, with the watery pale light casting its cool touch upon his face.

It's an oddly pleasant feeling, Albert discovered; that curious limbo between sleep and wakefulness, where one is _aware_ and yet not, and where time does not seem to pass, but rather stretches on indefinitely.

"Hey," a voice said, and Albert frowned as something shifted, and suddenly he didn't feel quite so warm anymore. The scratchy worn carpet beneath him seemed to use this opportunity to make itself known, and his blessed illusion of comfort rapidly disappeared.

Albert mumbled a complaint, his expression deepening to a scowl as the voice started laughing. He reluctantly blinked open his eyes, only half taking in his surroundings for the second time that morning.

Franz was beside him, sitting up and looking only a little more awake than he himself felt. Well, that was something at least. Although it _was_ still Franz's fault he was now cold.

"...why were you laughing?" Albert tried to sound grumpy, but couldn't quite muster the effort. His friend just shrugged, still looking amused, but strangely thoughtful.

"I don't think I've ever seen you wake up before; you're awful with mornings, you know. And..." a hand reached out and patted him on his head, "your hair looks terrible."

Albert glared and squinted up in Franz's direction, "yeah, well so does yours!"

In actual fact it didn't, but that was hardly the point. Franz simply ignored him and smiled faintly, still looking sleepy.

"...thanks, by the way."

Albert blinked and looked momentarily confused, sitting up to watch as Franz stared pointedly up at the small window.

"For what?"

"...for staying here last night. I know, it was childish of me to ask." Franz seemed slightly uncomfortable, and looked down as though to hide behind his hair.

Albert faltered, words dying in his mouth as the stretched silence grew. The room still seemed so dull in the face of Franz's sudden solemnity, and he could tell that they were both trying their best not to shiver.

"No..." he paused, and waited until Franz had turned to face him, "what's childish is you taking up all the floor space and stealing the covers."

He watched as Franz first looked momentarily startled, and then began to laugh. "Well, I suppose we were a little unprepared," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "maybe we should keep some blankets here..."

"We _could_..." Albert didn't really like the sound of that - winter was just beginning, and who knew how more frequent this could get?

"--you don't have to," Franz added hurriedly, interrupting his train of thought, "I know our hideout's not exactly comfortable; obviously I'd be fine by myself." He gave an odd half-smile and shifted slightly into the thin shaft of light falling from the window.

The room brightened a little, but Albert didn't really notice. He frowned, biting his lip in thought, "no... I think--"

"--as I'm not fooling myself," Franz interrupted again, "I know that there are going to be other times when I don't feel like facing my mother. Even though I think it probably makes me a coward; she needs me, but... sometimes I can't help but run away."

"Hey, Franz..." Albert suddenly found himself wishing they were still asleep curled up on the floor - it may have been hard and uncomfortable, but at least together they were warm... not to mention the sense of contentment and simplicity, false though it might have been. "I... I don't mind, you know that."

It was strange, really, how different things looked as the sun started to brighten. The room was still a mess, but the colours seemed just a little more vivid, and the light fell down upon sun-kissed blond hair. Albert considered himself far from poetic, but... it was true.

"Yeah," Franz was suddenly smiling again, and the room felt a little warmer. "So we can do this sometimes; say our goodnights and struggle against the uncomfortable floor and lack of heating... but as much fun as it was," he continued dryly, "I won't blame you for not wanting to again. Just... every so often, I think I'll have to."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence as Albert considered the import of that statement for all of three seconds.

"...so next time, just come and stay with me, idiot." He coughed and stole a glance in Franz's direction before staring at the carpet once more, "my room's big enough." And then there was that soft laugh again, and the warmth of Franz's hands on his shoulders.


End file.
